Terms of Service
by The Magic Pocket Turtle
Summary: Wallace discovers ahead of schedule what his "bonus" really is. (Warning: Spoilers for mid-game)


It had come to this.

Wallace had meant it when he said he'd take a bullet for his master- he truly had. In fact, there were several times he was certain that he would have to. Like when Treavor's idle gossip found its way to the ear of a rather prominent lord, or that time when he'd gone hunting with his brothers, or even more recently, when his lord had gotten so horrendously wasted that he'd insulted Havelock- to the Admiral's face. Wallace had always been prepared to take the fall for his master, but he always hoped it would be at least in some noble matter- leaping between Lord Pendleton and his aggressor, defending his life-long charge with his dying breath from whatever new dangers the world had thrown at him- dramatic, perhaps, but even the serving class had to dream a little.

And Wallace had never once dreamed that this bullet would come from the back of his head, with his old master pulling the trigger.

Metaphorically speaking. Wallace doubted that when the time came, Treavor would be the one holding the pistol. He wasn't the kind to get his hands dirty. It would have to be Martin, or Havelock, maybe. He couldn't be entirely sure, but he was able to make an educated guess.

He wished the whole thing had come as a shock. But with the downhill spiral of the Hound Pits in the last few days, very little was surprising anymore. Wallace had been coming down the stairs only the night before- His master and the other two had been huddled together for most of the day, talking in quiet whispers.

_"But what about Lydia?"_

_"Really, Pendleton, which do you fancy more? Your neck or the woman?"_

_"That's prepos-"_

_"Stuff it, Treavor, it's not exactly a secret."_

_"Fine then, but I still don't see why Wallace-"_

_"Treavor, we understand, really we do. But we can't take any risks. No loose ends. It has to be done."_

_"Wallace wouldn't-"_

_"And six months ago we didn't think we'd be doing this. Times change, and we changed along with it. Now either you __**grow a pair **__or you line up with the rest of the staff, __**got it?**__"_

His master had grown silent. Havelock went back to discussing the plan with Martin, who sounded less than thrilled with the idea, but did not attempt to argue.

This morning he'd barely seen his master. They'd risen together, as they were accustomed to doing, but Treavor seemed quieter than usual. Instead of instructing Wallace in today's schedule, he'd detachedly scribbled some instructions on a piece of paper and handed it to the manservant, who now kept it in his breast pocket.

Now that he thought about it, the whole pub was quiet, as though everyone had been privy to the conversation he'd eavesdropped on the night before. Martin had already started drinking- a habit Wallace expected of Treavor, but unusual for the Overseer. "Corvo is missing." he said dully.

"Is he? Where'd you send him off to?" It was a stupid question, and the old manservant knew it.

"Nowhere. He just vanished." Martin refilled his glass. "Perhaps we've been betrayed."

"Perhaps." Perhaps his ass.

"Is the young Empress-"

"She'll be awake soon, Wallace. Why don't you go help Lydia with breakfast?"

Cooking wasn't Wallace's job, but he obliged. Bastard. The lot of them. All his work, going to be tossed aside as though he were a dog. He'd be lying if he said there wasn't some seed of bitterness in him. Didn't he deserve better than this? Hadn't he been faithful and loyal this whole time? Hadn't he? Couldn't Treavor have put up a better fight for the life of the man who'd stood by him, even as he was disgraced, ridiculed and neglected time and time again?

His seething must has showed, as Lydia soon drove him out of the kitchen. "That's three glasses and a dish you've broken already! If you don't want to cook then go find something else to do! Sweep, wipe down the counter, get your master off, I don't care!"

Wallace made a half muttered comment about Lydia's sexual habits, and he heard something else clash against the door as he closed it.

Emily came down the stairs as he left. "Where's Corvo?" Wallace didn't bother to stay and listen to Martin's lies again, and immediately exited the pub.

How dare they? _How DARE they_? How could they do this to him? To all of them? Every one of them had risked their necks for this "little protest movement" as Sokolov put it- and with the battle won all four of them, Lydia, Cecelia, and Callista and himself would have the least amount to show for it- to the victor go the spoils, but the spoils are given to the general, not the soldiers. The soldiers, at least those still standing when the dust cleared, got to live. But now they were going to be denied even that privilege. _**How dare they?!**_

A rock shattered on the cement wall in front of him. Then a second. This lumpy one was Overseer Martin. This thick one was Havelock. This flat one was Custis this round one was Morgan and this one was the Lord Regent and this one was Overseer Campbell and he wasn't sure who this was but he was certain they had wronged them too and it wasn't until Treavor pinged back unbroken and smacked him in the face that Wallace finally sat down, breathing heavily.

How _dare _he.

* * *

"Bonuses, huh?" Lydia dried her hands on her apron. "I guess it's really over then."

"It is." Wallace said heavily.

Lydia breezed past him with a smirk. "This is a good thing Wallace. Maybe we can fix-up this rat-hole, make it into a decent pub again." She waved her hand. "Not that you care. You'll probably be back at 'The Pendleton Estate'."

"Yes."

Lydia glanced back at him. "You could try to be a little cheerful."

"I could."

"You're impossible. I'm going outside."

Wallace watched her go. He guessed things wouldn't begin until all of them were out there. Callista was probably in the yard already, so that left him and-

"A bit odd, isn't it?" Cecelia had a stilted way of talking, like she was perpetually nervous. Maybe she was. "Going out in the yard for a bonus? Like they're making a show of it, almost."

Indeed. Even Wallace thought the lie was a bit flimsy. Why wouldn't bonuses be paid at the bar, in the building? If they wanted to make a show of it, then who was the audience? Then again, if he hadn't heard the conversation himself, he might not question it much either.

Cecelia began to head for the door. Such a shame. Wallace and Lydia were getting up there in age, Wallace more so, but Cecelia was a young thing. Eighteen, Twenty-two at the most. A shame. A damn shame...

The manservant found himself barreling over to Cecelia, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back with such force he heard her choke. "Not you." he said gruffly. "You're not getting anything."

The young girl looked dismayed. "But-"

"No, you haven't earned it." He made himself sound as fierce as possible. "You've been lazy and indolent. You'll get exactly what you've earned, and not a penny more. Orders from above."

Cecelia's breathing was hitching and she was biting her lip. Wallace was running out of time- if he wanted to help this girl he needed her gone. Now. "You stay in here."

Without another word, and without so much as glancing behind him, Wallace marched out the door and slammed it behind him.

If the girl had any damn sense in that ginger head of hers, she'd stay put.

"Wallace-" Treavor seemed to appear out of nowhere. Wallace guessed he had been waiting for his manservant to come out. "Listen to me, I..." Wallace looked at him expectantly. "I'm sorry. I just... I'm so sorry."

He sighed. "I know, my lord. I understand. If you don't mind, I need to go collect my bonus."

He brushed by Treavor. It occurred to him that at any time between the plot and now he could have run. He could have saved his own life and bolted. He could have saved all their lives and taken them with him. He could have, but... but. He smiled bitterly to himself. He always swore to himself that if push came to shove, he'd take the fall for his master. Wallace did many things, but he made no idle vows.

Lydia and Callista were talking in the shooting range. "Well, if Doom and Gloom himself hasn't decided to make an appearance."

"Lydia-" he started to snap, then sighed. "Never mind."

"What's gotten into you? You've been irritable all morning."

"It's nothing." He glanced down. "Before all this ends, you should know that it has been... a privilege working with you. Both of you."

"Okay now I'm worried." Lydia folded her arms. "What's going on?"

"It's..."

"Ladies, Wallace... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, this was never part of the plan, and it wasn't my plan, I swear it, but it has to be done. I'm so sorry, I'm so, so-"

A shot rang out, and Wallace couldn't hear Treavor anymore. Suddenly, the world had turned sideways, and the ground was much, much closer than it had been. Lydia's mouth was hanging open- she might have been screaming, but he couldn't _hear _her. Havelock suddenly loomed into view, and seemed to be asking something- Lydia just spat at him, and suddenly there was a gun in her face and then-

And then...


End file.
